Ilyria knew that she should not sleep. So she picked at dinner, conscious of not eating so much that she would grow drowsy. Her belly growled in complaint but after carefully positioning the bag with the cloud silks and the kitten over her shoulder, she decided to go looking for the merchant. The other travellers were rolling out bedding on the cooling desert sands, keeping close to the fire. The kindly, hairy man who had alerted her to her moving bag was sprinkling a glowing blue dust around the bedding of his a pair of tussling small boys while a woman Ilyria assumed to be his wife looked on with sad, tired eyes. The blue dust glittered in the desert dusk. He saw her looking.
“It is Zaraqi dust,” he said, “It will keep away most things that bite.” He grinned and held out the bag to her, “Here, there is a little left.”
She hesitated, not wanting to take advantage of the man’s kindness but his wife nodded once at her and gave her a smile that was about as ti
The mercenary still held the stick, though loosely. The splayed form of the traveller did not stir. “He will wake with a headache in the morning,” said the mercenary with a smile that was at once shy and a little pleased with himself, “He is a known scoundrel. He will do anything for any money. Please let me introduce myself, Ilyria,” he bowed low, “I am Suluu of Isfap.” Ilyria lay looking at him. She still could not move. “Oh,” he said, “I think you would like to be released from the poison?” “That would be nice,” said Ilyria with as little annoyance as she could manage under the circumstances. “It’s the Zaraqi,” said the Suluu, “Most of the time it can be used to kill any biting creatures but if the concentration is too high, then it becomes, well …” he spread out his hands indicating Ilyria’s prone form. He only then seemed to notice that she was nearly naked. His eyes widened in shock and Ilyria felt her whole body blush. If she w
“Wait,” said Suluu, stopping. Ilyria groaned inwardly. He had changed his mind. She was already thinking she should ask him to at least leave her with some provisions. Though terror crept up on her at the thought of a long day of walking to nowhere. “Yes?” she said, trying to keep her voice from betraying her fear. “Which way do you want to head?” asked Suluu. He looked at Ilyria with genuine confusion as she burst out laughing. Mostly at herself but then also at his expression. She was relieved that he had stopped only to ask what direction they should be heading toward but she felt stupid for missing the obvious. They had simply set off without knowing where. She turned in a circle. She was going to say toward the horizon but then she realized how ridiculous that sounded because it was all horizon. “Everything that sets in the East, will rise each day anew in the West,” she recited softly. Her education since her father had died had consisted of things she consider
Ilyria watched the sky darken from the safe haven of the oasis. Fierce emerged from behind a tree with a small gecko in her mouth, then lay beside Ilyria crunching happily. Ilyria stroked her, trying to understand what could have happened. Would he have just left her? Maybe. You fool, she berated herself, you hardly knew him at all and you just gave yourself to him. Yet, even so, even with Suluu gone, even without a supper to look forward to and no place to go, even so she smiled at the memory of the water and his body and his mouth. When it was full dark she knew she could not put it off any longer. She stood, gathering Fierce up and settling the little cat in her bag. She put on her sandals then scooped water into her mouth, regretting that she had not thought to include a canteen in Fierce’s bag. Though she didn’t think the cloud silks would have tolerated it. It was a whole other world in that bag now. It made her miss Miasma with a deep ache. What had Miasma sai
Time passed and the light never changed in the room. Ilyria and Suluu slept, they woke, they made love, they slept again. In her dreams, she joined her mother at the dining table in the mansion of her childhood. Daria Agrio was young and beautiful. Her hair shimmered with jewels and her robe was woven of a silk so delicate her nipples appeared rosily through the thin fabric. At her side appeared a series of suitors. As each left, he kissed Daria’s pale cheek, picked up the small gold scissors on the table before her and snipped off a lock of hair bearing a jewel or a thread of silk from her robe. Her mother appeared not to notice. In the dream, Ilyria was seated at the far end of the table, unable to move or speak. She watched helplessly as Daria was stripped of her fine robe and all her jewels, her beautiful hair shorn, and still the suitors appeared. One of the suitors finally noticed Ilyria and walked toward her, his smile stretching across his mouth, wider and wider until it see
Ilyria sat down in the grass next to the Mogul. “What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice sounded muffled. “I have to fix it,” said the Mogul. “Fix what,” said Ilyria, trying to see what he was working on. “I have to fix it,” said the Mogul again. He went on to repeat these words over and over as his long slim fingers continued their tireless obsessive task. The box was made of an ashy wood and consisted of four sliding panels. The Mogul had one panel open and was working at the delicate set of gears it revealed. Peering over his shoulder, she saw that the gears were not working. The missing part was the fragile chain that the Mogul held between his thumb and forefinger. Ilyria held her breath while he tried again and again to thread the chain over the gears. When, finally it was done, she exhaled. He turned the box to access the next sliding panel. They both heard the little jingle against the wooden floor of the box as the chain fell off th
The box, hovered above the dazed siren, giving off a low hum. And within the safety of that hum, Ilyria could no longer hear the siren’s voices. It seemed neither could the Mogul. He scratched his head and looked at her, then looked away. Mortified, Ilyria realized she was naked again. She stretched out her hand. “Please may I have some clothes?” The Mogul quickly shed his tunic but kept his pants. His bare chest was thin and sparsely covered with grey hairs, his face thin to the point of emaciation. His skin hung loosely and was tinged with yellow. Ilyria realized with alarm that he looked old and sick. Looking at him now, she realized that he must be the same age her father would have been. Subjected to months of this ordeal, he had suffered. Could he still save Idixat? Was this the man who would restore true justice to her home? Meanwhile the hum had disoriented the sirens who, though they had formed a circle around Mogul and Ilyria, seemed unable
The queen snapped her fingers and Fierce appeared in front of her, her four paws splayed, teeth bared and wings spread. She hissed at the queen. Ilyria rushed forward to pick her up but the panicked kitten heard only movement behind her and lashed out with her tail which had grown to twice the length of her body and was covered in sharp scales. Ilyria screamed in pain. Her kitten had grown. She sank to her knees. “Fierce,” she whispered, “Fierce it’s me.” At the sound of her voice, the little creature stopped fighting thouth her teeth were still bared and her eyes still shone with yellow fire. It was all Ilyria could do to keep her nerve. She held out her hand. The fire went out in Fierce’s eyes. She closed her wings and trotted over to Ilyria, head-bumping her hands and purring in happiness. Ilyria’s eyes teared up. She had not lost Fierce. “She’s not a dragon,” said Ilyria, stroking Fierce’s head and scratching her back between t
The shield around them wavered as conflicting emotions ran through Ilyria. Astrapi felt like home to her and that made no sense. She was angry with him because she could not trust him and that did make sense. But then she was also confused because she was the only who seemed to think there was anything trustworthy or even worthwhile in him. The shield faded and blinked but stayed in place. Madame Skia, with her sister’s body still in her arms looked up at Ilyria. “No, Ilyria,” she said, “I beg of you. Do not trust him. Listen to me. He is Zlo’s twin.” Astrapi stood before the shield but seemed not to be able to see beyond it. As it wavered, he leaned closer, as though he knew something was there. He reached out and touched it, then grimaced in pain and quickly withdrew his hand. Ilyria concentrated and the shield glowed once more, steady. But she was growing tired and without the queen to help, she and Madame Skia would not be able to hold it for long.